1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.
6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
Set out on the road ran
Set to run through graveyards of man
Set to raise righteous war
Set to complete this endless opening door
Look into vast
Or as long as we can hold the moment
Avenues of church pews
A peaceful spot is Piper's Flat. The folk that live around -
They keep themselves by keeping sheep and turning up the ground;
But the climate is erratic, and the consequences are
The struggle with the elements is everlasting war.
We plough, and sow, and harrow - then sit down and pray for rain;
And then we get all flooded out and have to start again.
But the folk are now rejoicing as they ne'er rejoiced before,
For we've played Molongo cricket, and M'Dougal topped the score!
Molongo had a head on it, and challenged us to play
The straggled soldier halted — stared at Him — Then clumsily dumped down upon his knees, Gasping
'O blessed crucifix, I'm beat !'
And Christ, still sentried by the seraphim, Near the front-line, between two splintered trees, Spoke him:
'My son, behold these hands and feet.'
Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with flow'rs,
Where Thames with pride surveys his rising tow'rs,
There stands a structure of majestic frame,
Which from the neighb'ring Hampton takes its name.
Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom
Of foreign tyrants and of nymphs at home;
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.
Hither the heroes and the nymphs resort,
To taste awhile the pleasures of a court;
You're a note sent from heaven,
To a battle field in hell.
I wish I could kiss you here
and the worries farewell.
Every letter written carefully
By a steady hand in ink.
I hold your picture to my heart,
Smell your scent, tears on the brink.
There was a time when America was prosperous…
It was a time when American life was good…
It was a time when families prayed together…
We lived as one proud nation, as we should…
We used to travel across our great country…
As a family, together on holiday trips…
Gas was affordable and available everywhere…
Unlike today, with the oil apocalypse…
the days are long, the nights
even longer. I witnessed them pass
again. I gnaw my teeth, stuff
my heart down lungs and hear others
unleash a howl, roaring at
fireworks scarlett in sin.
They fall around me;
drifting leaves amongst the
रावण को तो हर साल आग लगाई जाति है
लेकिन सीता पर बुरी नजर तो आज भी डाली जाती है.
विभीषण जैसो की बाते कहा मानी जाती है।
तुम्हे कुछ पता नही बोलके मंदोदरी की बाते आज भी टाली जाती है.
रावण के रूप में यहां बुराई जलाई जाती हे.
पर हकीकत में यहां किसी और को बुरा दिखाकर बुराइयां छुपाई जाति ही।.
Is there a time when friendship does not count,
Where bonds forged in war are callously
Is now the time for their suffering to willfully
As a passing blight, a chore ill-gotten?
Is desperation always someone else’s burden,
To be observed but ultimately ignored,
Their fate unclear, easier to draw that curtain